Lapse of Reality
by ChuChuMarshmallow
Summary: And for the first time in years he felt like a helpless little boy. Lost, but for once, he wasn't all alone. -Angsty!Fluff, Tissues possibly required- Collab fic between ChuChuMarshmallow and Grim Lullaby


A/N: What happens when you combine a marshmallow and a pancake? This. Don't have much to say about it in particular, except that Young Justice entices me to write angsty type things, so don't read if you're gonna cry to the point of blindness or if you're gonna spazz and die, please. Off topic of the content however, I would like to thank Miss Pancakes, aka Grimmy, for being awesome and helping me actually finish something instead of letting it rot forever like so many of my other things do. That, and for actually pushing it to be like, 2000 words. I can't write anywhere near that amount anymore alone. So yeah, thankies Pann~ you'll be covered in syrup later on. :3

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:-:-:

It wasn't fair. It definitely, most certainly was not fair. His fists clenched, his body trembling in some odd mixture of rage, sadness and confusion.

There was no reason that _he_ had to die.

That moment, that one moment would never escape his memory, no matter how many times he could possibly try. Wally was a best friend to him, a brother, and sometimes, he found himself entertaining the thought of him being something more. And as much as he loved him, in more ways than he desired to admit, it wouldn't be able to justify what had just happened.

Aqualad was lying across the room, motionless, blood seeping through the gunshot wound in his chest. Despite how painful Dick imagined the messy hole to be, the teen had some sort of serene look on his face. Like he knew that it would happen. Well, he probably did. It seemed like he knew everything that was going to happen sometimes.

"I...I didn't..." Wally was at a loss for words. His face revealed that he was just as shocked, if not more so. Dick couldn't take it. Rage bubbled on the tips of his lips.

"If _you_ hadn't RUSHED in, after we specifically told you to WAIT, he wouldn't be DEAD!" As he screamed, the older boy flinched, a guilty expression flooding his features like a waterfall. Did he have to be so easy to read? "He wouldn't have had to SAVE _YOU_, and he would still be ALIVE!"

Dick fell silent, ragged, shaky breathing filling in the gap of nothingness between the two of them. He heard the intake of breath behind him, and then suddenly footsteps. He was running away, but not fast enough for it to be silent. Suddenly, it was Dick's turn to feel the wave of guilt. It wasn't Wally's fault he knew. At least not a hundred percent.

There was something that each of them could've done different. M'gann could've checked to see if any of the crooks had hidden weapons. Superboy could've taken the bullet. Sure he might've felt some pain, but he wouldn't have _died. _And...he was too slow to throw a line to wrap the guy up in rope and render him useless. He was too slow. Wally was too fast. And because of their inability to balance themselves, Aqualad was dead. Gone, forever.

And now, he looked up at the doorway of the near vacant warehouse, he might lose Wally, too.

:-:-:

Sorry... He was so sorry and he hated to admit that he believed what Dick said. It was true. If only he had listened for once, if only he hadn't said 'I got it, I got it!' and wanted to take the lead for once. He knew, and had always known, that he was not the type to be a leader. Yet he still fought to prove that he _could_ be one. He could be just as great of a leader that Dick was. He could be just as good as...

He stopped, deciding to take his frustration out on an innocent soda can, the force of the kick sending it far out of view. After staring at the now empty space in front of his foot, he just sat down. It didn't concern him that he was in the middle of a sidewalk and that the generous amount of people still roaming the streets as the sun faded kept casting odd looks his way. He didn't care that he'd left his cellphone and all other sources of communication in his room when he'd ran by his house and changed clothes. He didn't need to talk to anyone. He didn't plan on returning there for a while, anyway. They were better off without his careless thinking, sporadic actions, and stubbornness.

Dick could run the team...what was left of it, better without him.

A sudden tightness clutched his chest. Dick, no, Richard probably hated him now. Right now, he was probably cheering that he'd been gone for days. He probably wished that he would stay gone. Probably...

Probably was such an indefinite word. He never really liked using it. It was either there or not, and that's how it should be. But it scared him, trying to decide which side of that black and white area that the grey leaned towards. Was it a definite? Was he really hated? Was there some possible way that he could go back, back to him, and make up for what had happened?

He punched the ground, barely wincing as his knuckles scraped against the concrete. Of course not. There was no way to make up for causing someone close, someone whom everyone cared for, to die. Unless he brought him back, ran around the world so fast that it reversed time, or erased everyone's memory and created a clone of Aqualad, there was no way to make up for the fact that he was gone, and there was now an empty space within their group that could never be replaced.

But there was still the feasible, hopeful thought that he could at least partially ease the pain, his pain, both of their pain, by just being there.

He stood, noticing offhandedly that the sun had disappeared, who knows how long ago, and that street lights barely lit up, but they somehow showed him the path he needed to head towards. There was no downside to what he wanted to do. If he was hated, at least he would know it for sure, and he would disappear. And if he wasn't, he'd have proven to himself that he wasn't useless, and he was needed, even if it had never truly been shown. With that thought Wally took a deep breath and did what he did best.

He ran.

:-:-:

He was sorely tempted to join Superboy and Miss Martian in their search but he decided to stay in bed and stare at his ceiling blankly. While what happened before couldn't be pinned to one person, Wally's departure could be pinned on him completely. And unlike what happened to, he swallowed the lump in his throat, Aqualad, this could have been prevented.

He shifted in the bed and turned over listlessly to stare at the lumpy, dingy white colored wall. Inside he wanted to scream and kick and blame Wally for running away. Despite it being his fault. But he knew... He was doing the same thing. He was running away from his problems.

He was running away from his fallen comrade.

He was running away from the guilt that came with letting down his team.

He was running away from Wally...

Dick still hadn't managed to cry. Two days. He felt sick to his stomach. Sick with disgrace and the entire textbook of emotions that always accompanied it. He was glad that he'd attacked that stupid laptop. He obviously wasn't ready for all of this, and that moment of unsuppressed rage helped a lot more than he would have admitted to anyone.

Then he heard it. A voice. Not much deeper than his own but a lot more broken. Saying his name. Not Dick. Not Robin. Not Rob. But Richard. His stomach coiled, the food that he barely ate earlier churning in the pit of his digestive system as he gagged a little.

Again. He heard it again. This time a whisper. Almost pleading. He could practically see the boy's lip tremble and his eyes tear up from the watery tone. He envied him for that. Emotions came so easily to the hyper boy. And while Dick had no problem expressing himself when it came to more common things like joy, excitement, and anger he still had a hard time coping with sadness.

It was almost weird. He used to cry, before they died. He was the center of their universe but now... He felt so extra. His only purpose in life was to save people from the stroke of misfortune he'd been so viciously subjected to. And he did so, by Batman's side, but it was just for the people of Gotham. He needed to save more.

It was why he was so happy about the idea of participating in Young Justice. And of course, he had to press to be the leader. A bad one that couldn't keep up with the crushing responsibility. He really didn't blame a lot of heroes for not taking on sidekicks. No wonder Batman was so reluctant to take him. No wonder he made him train so hard.

This was so fucked up.

"Richard. Please..."

A hand was on his shoulder and he flinched violently. But it didn't move. If anything it tightened and was soon accompanied by a warm body hesitantly pressing against his back. And the anger that phased away that moment was replaced by even more anger at himself.

Why... Why does he always know what to do, what to say? And for the first time in years he felt like a helpless little boy. Lost, but for once, he wasn't all alone. There was another helpless boy there with him, and that thought made him a little better. He wasn't the only one...

Dick lifted his arm so Wally could slide his under there and embrace him from behind. He shifted slightly and leaned back against the redheaded boy. And before he'd realized it, he'd parted his slightly chapped lips and whispered, "I'm sorry."

Soon after, he felt warm tears and lips pressing against the back of the neck. No- That had to be some sort of catalyst because Dick couldn't stop the sudden pressure on his tear ducts. Unshed tears were flooding his vision. His throat felt tight and his heart felt like it weighed a ton, and that just added onto the constricting feeling of Wally squeezing him tighter.

He was shivering. But it was so warm. This was the perfect spot to be when- The dam broke. Tears rolled over Dick's round, flushed cheeks. Slowly at first. But soon he was hiccuping and sniffling and trying his hardest not to croak or make an even bigger fool of himself. He twisted in Wally's arms and pressed his face into his chest.

Was breathing always so hard?

Dick bit down on his lip to stifle a sob. Now that he'd started, he couldn't stop. His head was pounding and no matter how tightly he closed his eyes, they still hurt and the tears still escaped. And all the while Wally was kissing his forehead. Stroking his hair. He was being the strong one. Since when had their roles been so reversed?

Oh God he wanted to stop so bad. People who said crying helped were so wrong. He'd never felt so terrible in his life and now he felt like his heart was lodged in his throat. How did Wally do this? How could he be so controlled with his crying? Why wasn't he shaking and sobbing?

Just more kisses. To his forehead. On his hair. Against his eyelids. And there was a very reluctant one on his cheek. So hesitant. So soft. It was like he was kissing away the pain. And those fingertips. They massaged his scalp. It reminded him a bit of how a mother would calm their child.

And the fact that he cared so much made Dick feel warm inside. He tilted his head up and kissed the redhead square on the lips, pleased when the speedster melted against him. This was distracting. He didn't think anymore. He didn't feel like he was crying anymore, but his face was so wet he couldn't tell. He just felt...

He just felt like kissing Wally.

Because that was one of the better things in life to focus on. The sweet emotions that came with the meeting between two pairs of lips. Not just lips but his lips. They were warm and softer against his cool, wet ones. And when he flicked his tongue over them they tasted like salt, he guessed that to be a result of the tears, and something sweet with a bit of vanilla.

"Dick. No."

"No?" His voice sounded so young and strained. And his throat was so dry. It hurt a little to talk.

"I'm not doing that. Taking advantage of you." Wally's voice began to soften as he placed a small kiss against the shell of Dick's ear. "You're my best friend..."

"Oh..." But Dick wasn't as upset as he thought he'd be. He just felt... drained. He huffed softly and pressed his forehead back against Wally's chest drifting in and out of consciousness. Tomorrow they would be putting their fallen comrade to rest in Atlantis.

But for today, just for today, he'd allow the burden of his countless mistakes to be forgotten.

He'd allow himself to just rest there, with Wally embracing him, and pretend that nothing ever went wrong. That Kaldur would be waiting at their usual hideout, offering to play some sort of new card game and leaving everyone confused as to how he learned so many when it was impossible to play underwater. That Wally never disappeared for the longest fourty-eight hours of his life, and that he had never yelled at him for something that was probably already breaking the boy's conscious. That he hadn't failed as their leader.

Right now, his bleak ceiling was a cloud, and he and Wally were sitting under it, together, without any tears, apologies and pain. And while he knew that those clouds would soon revert back to grey and thunder would roll in as rain stabbed everything in it's way, he was content with overlooking it for now. He was almost positive that Wally felt the same. This little fantasy could last, for a night.

He'd deal with reality later.

* * *

**Grimmy:**_ Herp a derp. Hope you all enjoyed that little slice of angst. Oh Marshy, you always get me to do such lovely SADNESS AND DESPAIR. Of course, you all know that this was all thought of, and mostly written by, Marshy the Chu Chu-ing Marshmallow. 8D Woot for collab fics~ OH! Don't forget to check out the Young Justice Challenge Forums. Especially if you're short on ideas. :)_

_Stop trying to be all super sweet in that A/N Marshy! You're the awesome one, GTFO! And betcha that you all can't guess who wrote what, 8D!_

_Also, if you all hadn't noticed, this takes place after Robin becomes leader. However we decided not to inculde Artemis for certain reasons.  
_


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